Good morning everyone! I wanted to take a moment to introduce myself properly here -- My name is Rebecca Rasmusssen and I'm the author of the novel The Bird Sisters, forthcoming from Crown Publishers on April 12th. I am also going to be a panelist here on WOTV this year, and I am so grateful to Ana and all of you for having me...

I have also been doing some deep thinking about this month's topic--Angry Woman, Quiet Woman--and I can't really think about the state of women these days without thinking about my mother.

My mother was recently diagnosed with type II diabetes after having been mysteriously losing weight the last six months or so along with a handful of other alarming symptoms. Her doctor is trying to figure out how to get her weight back up into the healthy range, which makes her a bit unusual in the type II diabetes crowd. The other thing that may or may not be unusual about my mother was that she did nothing about the symptoms she was having for the length that she was having them and would even joke, "Oh, it's diabetes, I know" when anyone asked her about her declining health. What frustrated me, what continues to frustrate me, is that I can't force her to get in the car and go get the care she needs and deserves. Except that with the help of my brother that's exactly what I did on Christmas Day this year.

2. My mother hasn't been to a doctor for over 25 years. That means no annual exams, no pap smears, no mammograms.

3. My mother is kind of proud of this fact, and now admonishes her body for "failing her."

When we arrived at the emergency room at St. Mary's, they did many tests. My mother said to the ER doctor, I think I'm diabetic. He asked her how long she'd been diagnosing herself, which made her quiet for a moment and then a little bit angry. Then he took her blood sugar and sure enough she was diabetic (not even in the maybe category, but in the surely one the doctor said)...

So why didn't my mother get help if she truly knew she was diabetic in her heart? Fear? Anger? Denial?

I don't exactly know, and I don't think she does either.

I do know that the doctor slapped her hand when I told him she hadn't ever had a mammogram, that she was 62, and that my grandmother died of breast cancer ten years ago...

This all got me thinking about angry women and quiet women. Where does my mother fit in? And where do I?

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This is what I'll be talking more about at 12EST on Jan 18th on WOTV Blog Talk Radio...Listen in if you have the chance!